By Knives and Shadows
by Dahlia d'Arque
Summary: My name is Arissa Gwethalyn Daurana, Master Assassin, and I have a demon inside of me – one that can only be sated with blood. I work for Daud, my loyalty to him without question. Yet, could I or he have foreseen what would befall the Whalers after our highest risk contract to date? Truth be told, I do not even know if sharp metal and shadows will be enough to save us now.
1. What Happens When the Swans Cry?

**Author's Note:** To those of you who have been with me since the beginning in 2013, today marks the day that I published _Blood and Coin._ It is one of my biggest regrets that I not only never completed it, but kept screwing it up each time I rewrote it. No more of that crap. This version will be staying as close to the original as possible, while also reflecting how I have changed as a writer. It's my goal to keep you guys on your toes throughout this story, even if you may already know what's coming.

To those of you who have been with me since _By Blood and Coin,_ this is the second installment of my series, and is set during _The Knife of Dunwall_. If you haven't played it, there are **HEAVY SPOILERS** present. Some of the events that take place in the DLC will have my personal touch on them, but they will still be following said events quite closely. You've been warned.

And for those of you who are new to this series, welcome! If you have not read _By Blood and Coin,_ I do recommend reading that one first. However, it isn't entirely necessary to understand what's happening in this story. The spoiler warning above, however, still applies.

Lastly, thanks for taking the time to check out my story! Your views, reviews, follows, and/or favorites are greatly appreciated!

* * *

 ** _Chapter One (Prologue)_**

 ** _What Happens When the Swans Cry?_**

* * *

 _YOU HAVE ALREADY STOLEN THIS DIARY ONCE. IT WILL **NOT** BE HAPPENING AGAIN. SO **THINK TWICE**. THINK LONG AND HARD ON WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO DO. DO YOU REALLY WANT TO BE MY LATEST TOY?_

* * *

 _Page 197_

 _Diary Entry: Reminiscence_

 _The Flooded District, the City of Dunwall, Isle of Gristol_

 _Seventeenth Day, Month of Earth, 1837_

 ** __O_O_O__**

 ** _F_** _inally,_ _a day to myself. Yet, this moment seems so bittersweet. Not at all what I was hoping it would be. It's after midnight, and I can't sleep. I'm too anxious. Too on edge. And Kieron's snoring! Ugh, I know he has allergies – I do, too – but sometimes I really I want to put a pillow over his face to shut him up._

 _Don't kill my beau. Don't kill my beau. Don't kill my beau **—**_

 _Definitely on edge. I can feel the urge coming on. But I won't have a victim tonight. No, not tonight. I need to resist the urge – it's what they would want. So I should sleep, but I can't. Should I sleep dart myself? No, that'd be a waste. I suppose I'll have to try boring myself to sleep, then. Here's to hoping that works._

 ** _…_**

 _The days have been long and grueling ever since we left our previous home, Oracle Natividad's Asylum for Natural Philosophical Research. For the first five months after our relocation, we worked twelve hour shifts, followed by twelve hour resting periods. After those five months, we were forced to stay awake for three days or more at a time. I swear to the Outsider that if I **never** see another canteen of coffee or tea, it will be too soon. At least those days are gone now, finally ended last month. We were able to enjoy the Fugue Feast in relative peace._

 _Reflecting on this **—** has it truly been that long already? It doesn't seem like it. It still seems as though it were only yesterday that I finally, after seven years, became a Master Assassin. Have I become older, or wiser? I have aged from sixteen to seventeen, yes – and I will be eighteen come the fourth day of the Month of Darkness. I have definitely become more tired. Though, I like to think that I have settled into my new role well – after all, Master Daud has not killed me yet. That's quite a positive thing, especially since he became more aggressive after we left the Asylum._

 _This contract has us all on edge, Master Daud especially so. I worry about him. I think I am the only one who does. Most of my brothers still think we're making a grave mistake. Of that, I'm not certain. I've been told that we'll have no other opportunities to strike. I've been told that this **has** to happen on the nineteenth, or else it may never happen at all. Then all of our efforts – all of our time – will have been for nothing. And I rightfully fear being on the receiving end of Master Daud's fury, should that come to pass._

 _Do you know me, dearest diary? What do you make of me? Am I one to be loved, or am I one to be loathed? I have so many questions, yet I lack so many answers. Perhaps I'm not the only one who does, in this dying, plague-ravaged city. And in this line of work, there is no such thing as retirement on your own terms._

 _But I've become more than just a mere assassin in these recent months. Does that make me more likely to survive, or less? Only a handful of those close to me understand what I am. They **—** they try to help me. Sometimes I wish they wouldn't. They don't need to see what I've become. They're all assassins, and even they would be sickened by it. Wouldn't they?_

 _My childhood must have shaped my future for becoming this **—thing**. The year of 1836 only pushed me over the metaphorical cliff. But I was never addicted to hallucinogens or narcotics. Never saw the point in them. I'm not really one for alcohol, either. I enjoy the occasional drink with my brothers, nothing more. No. My addiction, my **need** , is different. It will never be cured, I realize that now. So I try to make the best of it. It doesn't make me any less worried that I might hurt someone I care about._

 _And what if I do? In the end, aren't I just a monster wearing a woman's skin? They'd have every right to put me down **—** and I wouldn't blame them if they had to._

 _Am I possessed by some demon? It seems easier to say so. But the Outsider isn't the demon I mean. In any case, demon or no demon, I'd be executed for heresy all the same, if the Abbey of the Everyman ever caught me **—**_

 ** _…_**

 _Outsider's eyes, is it raining again? Oh great, it is. It's bad enough that everything is always damp, even when it's sunny. How that works, I don't know. All I know is that I'm tired of my bed, my clothes, and my hair being damp and cold. Thanks so much, Flooded District. At least the vengeful spirit of Mereedee, back in the Asylum, made things interesting. And we weren't always so cold._

 _Well. This isn't just a rain shower. It's a thunderstorm. Is this an ill omen? I suppose it doesn't matter._

 _At least Kieron finally stopped snoring._

 ** _…_**

 _I wonder what will happen when the yellow swans on the field of blue cry._

 _Surely the bells will toll, and the City Watch will do more than stroll. We've played in the game of politics for years, and it's a very dangerous game. I fear for more than just being on the receiving end of Master Daud's fury. I also fear for the safety of those I consider to be family. Yet, creating political instability is no small thing. What if we overplay our hand with this one, single assassination? What if sharp metal and shadows will not be enough to save us after it is done?_

 _What if, what if, what if._

 _I hate it. I hate this waiting. I hate the not knowing, and the not being able to sleep soundly. But we are moving into our position come tomorrow's twilight. We'll settle in, and wait some more. No one, except perhaps for Master Daud, will sleep. Then, it will be time to strike at long last. No one should be any the wiser as to what we will have done. Our part will be played. We will be payed. And then we get to go home, and do—what? Will we finally get time off? Doubtful. Another contract? Most likely._

 _There's still something that bothers me. It's a well-known fact that politicians, the aristocracy, are nothing more than depraved, hideous swooping creatures who vie for unjustified power. This is especially true, ever since the Rat Plague started killing off the destitute and the rich alike. It's people like me that help to create those vile beasts – politicians or the aristocracy, I mean. In a way, our hands feed them as much as their hands feed us. It's not a pleasant thought._

 _Then again, is anything a pleasant thought these days?_


	2. The Wrong or Righteous Road

**_Chapter Two_**

 ** _The Wrong or Righteous Road_**

* * *

 _Dunwall Tower_

 _The City of Dunwall, Isle of Gristol_

 _Nineteenth Day, Month of Earth, 1837_

 ** __O_O_O__**

No one wanted to speak, for fear of saying the wrong thing. No one had slept. No one had been particularly tired. We all sat round for most of the night, vapor masks on, and more or less twiddled our thumbs. This was one of the tensest moments any of us had experienced in a long, long time. The discordancy of the machinery's hum kept us all on edge.

The moment would be upon us soon.

I stood near the door, tapping my fingers against the hilt of my blade. It was still surreal that we were finally here. It had only taken innumerable scouting runs; bribes; arranging the "accidental" deaths of servants, only to replace them with reliable informants; and more, just to get this far. So much work, for what would only be a single shot.

 _Will all of this have been worth it?_

Our Master included, we were a team of five. Billie Lurk, Carlo Kastor, Fergus Kastor, and I each held a task that was suited to our particular talents. Billie and I were operating in tandem. She would scout out troublesome targets and relay their locations to me. I would then proceed to hunt them down and eliminate them, clearing a path for Master Daud, Carlo, and Fergus.

The twins were paramount to the success of our contract. Though, in truth, we were gambling with their lives. Would they be captured? Would they be interrogated and held for execution? Would they be killed on sight? All we had were questions. No answers. Yet, if the worst came to pass, we were already prepared to break them out of Coldridge Prison…or cast them out to sea, in eternal rest.

Breaking into Dunwall Tower's water lock had proven to be nearly impossible, despite all the bribes and preparations made. We were beginning to crack under the tremendous weight on our shoulders, Master Daud's intimidating gaze only made matters worse for our focus. He was waiting. Waiting for one of us to slip up, to make a Novice's mistake. We were four of his elite; therefore he expected nothing less than meticulous precision from us. If we somehow failed our contract…

I could only pray that Master Daud would be content with murdering us in cold blood. I have seen the things he can do to a person. Torture does not begin to describe those techniques. Fascinating to watch him use them…but I would prefer to die by my own hand at that point.

Fortunately, everything had gone according to plan so far. That meant very little in our line of work, though. One of the first lessons you learn as an assassin is to _always_ expect the unexpected.

"Nervous, Arissa?" Master Daud said, his gaze focused on my fingers. "Scared, perhaps?"

"No, Master," I replied, ceasing to tap my fingers. "Of course not."

Master Daud's steely-blue eyes met my own, and I had to do everything in my power not to flinch. "I'd be nervous, too. Not knowing whether or not your Master plans to kill you…Not knowing what will happen once we step out of the confines of this room…You do realize, since I plan to leave Lurk here to prepare the bindings for the girl, that if your brothers fail, the fate of the contract lies in your hands?"

"Yes, Master. I am aware of that."

"I would hope so. It'd be a shame if I had to waste your talents."

I remained silent.

"Arissa, you're on point," Master Daud commanded. "Let's move!"

I opened the door to the control room, taking point. Master Daud, Carlo, and Fergus would be behind me. Dependent on me. I would not fail them.

As I crept up the stone staircase, I wrapped my fingers around the hilt of my blade, silently sliding it out from my belt. Turning the corner, I saw a lone City Watchman staring out at the vast expanse of the Wrenhaven River. I held out my left hand, spreading my fingers in a specific mannerism to indicate that I was dispatching a troublesome target.

Crouching low, I snuck up behind the Watchman. My footsteps made no sound, and I could not help but smile underneath my mask. I lived for moments like this now. My heart would pound in excitement, and I would get this…unique sensation in my head – my _need._ It did not hurt me, but it made me crave. A craving that can only be sated by…what else?

Blood.

I placed my hand over the Watchman's mouth, muffling his screams. He tried to fight against me. Tried to break free of my grasp. Yet, I am a master in my art. His struggles were in vain, as I angled my blade and stabbed into his side. The sharp metal was aimed at his heart.

 _One…Two…Three…_

His body shuddered, his breathing ragged. Death was taking him. Death always took them.

 _Four…Five…Six…_

The sound of three transversals in rapid succession broke my trance. Master Daud and my brothers have gone up to the rooftop above the water lock.

"Are you dead yet?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

The lack of a reply gave me my answer, and I guided the dead man's body to the ground. I withdrew my blade, and I dragged the corpse behind some conveniently located crates. I wiped the blood on my hands and blade away on his coat.

I sheathed my blade, and stood up to my full height. "You probably did not deserve to die, but I am not sorry. You were simply in the way. In the wrong place, at the wrong time. May you rest in peace all the same. The Outsider knows I will not."

Now it was my turn to transverse, to follow in my Master's path. And I did. I drew in a small amount of mana, focused on where I wished to be standing. I felt the smoky darkness envelop me, my body ripping itself apart and rematerializing all in the same instant. Then I found myself on the rooftop above the water lock.

That was when I heard a gunshot.

I ran to Master Daud's side, where he was staying out of sight by crouching behind the rooftop's crenellations. He was tapping his fingers against them. He was displeased. _Why? Were Carlo and Fergus caught already? There is no way._

I crouched near my Master, casting my eyes towards the extravagant pavilion in the slight distance. _No. Impossible. He should not even be here!_ I swore under my breath in Serkonan.

That rat! The rat deceived us! _Assured_ us that the Royal Protector would not be an issue. So how is he even _here?!_ He should not be, not for another two days _at least!_

I had never seen the Royal Protector in person before. Until now, that is. Perhaps it is my imagination, but Corvo Attano seems taller than Master Daud. His dark, jaw-length hair matched his – what I assumed were – dark eyes, and he had the typical dusky skin of a Serkonan. He had placed himself in front of Empress Jessamine and her daughter, Lady Emily, with sword and smoking pistol in hand.

There was something about his expression that actually managed to unnerve me. His expression was a mask – a mask of pure and cold murderous rage. If the whispers are to be believed, I should not be surprised. A parent's love for their child is said to do things to a person. And it has been said that Corvo Attano is the father of Emily Kaldwin, born out of wedlock and outside of the Fugue Feast.

It is a very strange matter by Dunwall's societal standards. It is stranger still that no one can prove nor deny this incriminating rumor. Yet, I am of the firm belief that Emily Kaldwin is _really_ Emily Attano. And if _that_ is true, well…Carlo and Fergus are not going to live through this encounter. They will not even stand a chance against the Serkonan Whirlwind himself.

Given the situation, perhaps I should not have been so…awestruck, as I watched Corvo dance. He is about to murder my brothers, after all. Still, he was striking fast, and striking true. And the sheer _skill_ of it! It greatly surpasses that of my brothers – that of my own, even. _He won the Blade Verbena, did he not? No wonder he is the Royal Protector. Jessamine picked him for more than just his looks after all, it seems._

Carlo and Fergus were combating Corvo together, one trying to make an opening for the other to strike. Against any other opponent, that would have worked. Not so with Corvo. Carlo had approached him from the right flank. Yet, he saw this coming and spun, swiftly blocking Carlo's strike. Steel rung loudly against steel, and Carlo was knocked off balance, desperately trying to recover from his mistake.

He never did.

In an eye's blink, the Royal Protector aimed his pistol and fired.

Carlo now lies twitching on the ground, taking his final breaths.

Fergus tried to use the opening he was given, yet he was shaken. He was known as one of the best swordsmen in the Whalers, agile and cunning. Well…agile and cunning did not cut it here. Corvo exploited the opening, parrying Fergus's strike away and knocking him off balance as well. Fergus fell, quickly transversing himself back onto his feet, behind Corvo.

Oh…Fascinating…

The Royal Protector had wanted that all along. He stabbed _behind_ him, catching Fergus on his blade. It was a fatal blow, from the looks of it.

When Fergus slumped to the ground, I knew he had lost his grasp on life. Both Carlo and him dead…in several blinks of the eyes. Their bodies vanished in a puff of dark smoke.

I thought for certain that Master Daud would pop a vein in his head. He is rather angry right now, and I do not blame him. Two of his elite, dead…killed as quickly as one could snap their fingers. So…that leaves a bit of a problem.

Because now I have to deal with Corvo.

 _Great…Just great._

I watched as Lady Emily ran up to the Royal Protector, wrapping her arms around him. I could hear her sobbing, even from here. _How typical of a child to be crying._ The Empress came to stand next to Corvo, as well, placing her hand upon his shoulder.

Combating Corvo one-on-one will be a terrible idea, as I have no desire to die. That leaves me with only one solution to my problem, and it will be risky. Yet, I will have no choice but to take that risk. Master Daud would not have it any other way.

And, quite honestly, neither would I.

"Master," I said. "What is your will?"

"Deal with Corvo," Master Daud replied, his tone as cold as the Void. "If you fail me and survive, I want you to consider what happened to Carlo and Fergus as mercy."

I nodded. "By your command, Master."

I lunged forward, transversing myself onto the pavilion. The Royal Protector's back was to me. _Pure luck, that._ I raised my right hand into the air, ensnaring Corvo within a tethering, suspending him high off the ground and completely immobilizing him.

Master Daud materialized next to me. Lady Emily let out a shrill cry as he seized her small wrist. She was frozen in place, paralyzed by fear I could safely assume.

"No! Get _away_ from her!" Empress Jessamine bellowed, forcing herself between the two of them. She managed to push my Master away, with strength summoned from I knew not where.

Master Daud backhanded her, and she stumbled. He wrapped his hand tightly around her neck, and forced her up against one of the pavilion's pillars. He raised his blade high in the air.

"Corvo!" she cried out.

In that moment, Time seemed to grow very, very still.

My Master impaled Empress Jessamine on his blade – I saw it come out her back. Lady Emily stared at her mother, whose life ebbed away before her eyes. Corvo struggled to free himself of my tethering, cursing me in Serkonan.

" _Mommy!_ " Lady Emily shrieked.

Master Daud withdrew his blade from the Empress, pushing her to the ground. Her blood began to pool quite quickly. The child tried to crawl to her dying mother.

"Emily, no!" Corvo growled at her. _His accent…is that a trace of Karnaca I hear?_ "Run! Get away from here!"

 _That will not be happening._

Lady Emily got up and tried to make a run for it. Holding the tethering strong in my hand, I stepped forward and wrapped my free arm around her, lifting her up into my embrace.

She struggled against me, screaming, " _Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!"_

I looked at Master Daud, awaiting my next order. He simply nodded. I released my tethering, and transversed back to our outpost.

* * *

 ** __O_O_O__**

* * *

I hate doing transversals with people. Doing a long-distance one takes enough out of me as it is. Doing a long distance transversal _with_ a "passenger"…Ugh. Do not even get me _started_ on that topic.

Lady Emily was not helping matters any. Were it not for the fact that she needed to be in one piece, unharmed, I would have hurt her. I had to restrain her with both my arms, due to her violent thrashing. And biting. She _really_ enjoyed the biting part.

"Are you done with your tantrum, girl?" I said. "You are becoming an annoyance."

"Good! Let me go!" she replied, trying to sound brave. "I'm a princess. And if you hurt me, then my mother will hurt you!"

"A shame, then, that your mother is dead."

Those eight words took every remaining ounce of fight out of Lady Emily. It was as though she had been hit by a carriage. "N-n-no! You're…you're lying! My mother will…Mother will…" Tears spilled down her cheeks in droves. "No…"

Billie Lurk finally bothered to come up the staircase. She glanced at me, then at Lady Emily. "This is the daughter of the Empress, hmm? Well, aren't you a pretty little thing."

"W-w-why…Why are you…doing this!?" Lady Emily asked through sobs.

"Because we were paid to," Billie answered, taking the girl from my arms. "Now hold still, you little brat."

First came the blindfold, then the gag, and finally, Lurk bound Lady Emily's hands together. Then, she passed the child back into my arms. Moments later, Master Daud transversed into the room, wiping fresh blood away on his sleeve.

"It took you long enough, sir," Lurk said to him. "When are we breaking the others out of Coldridge?"

"We're not," he replied. "They're dead."

Lurk scoffed. "With all due respect, I told you that they were going to be worthless, sir. We should have let Arissa kill Jessamine, and made her take the fall for it."

"Enough, Lurk. I'll fill you in on the details later. For now, return home and make sure their bodies are there. Otherwise, I'm going to have you searching the whole damn city for them."

"Whatever you say, sir," she replied, transversing away.

Master Daud turned to face me. "You're coming with me. The Empress's daughter still needs to be delivered to the Pendletons."

"Yes, Master," I replied without question.


	3. Scheduled Pickup

**_Chapter Three_**

 ** _Scheduled Pickup_**

* * *

Master Daud and I had made our way to the outskirts of the Estate District, where carriage tracks ran through a decrepit alley. No one was certain what the purpose of running the tracks through here was. The outskirts of most districts are where the poor and the homeless typically reside, making it a common spot for highborn lords and ladies to come and get to feel good about themselves by abusing their power over the hapless. They also happen to serve as meeting places for people like us. In this instance, we were awaiting the arrival of the twins, Morgan and Custis Pendleton.

By this point, I imagine you are wondering why we went through such great lengths to assassinate Empress Jessamine Kaldwin I. Why we were waiting for the Pendleton twins to arrive. Well…there had been a plan.

The Royal Spymaster, Hiram Burrows, hired us to kill Empress Jessamine Kaldwin because he believed she did not understand the true meaning of law and order. Or how to raise a proper heir to the throne, apparently. He did _not_ approve of Jessamine's closeness to Corvo. Further still, he thought the common people of Dunwall were too lazy.

Truth be told, that is the best summary I can give. The man is a hairless rat, obsessed with order. He can burn in the Void, for all I care. Yet, I digress.

There were two tasks we were hired on to do. The first task was to kill the Empress. The second was to kidnap her daughter. Soon after the assassination, the Royal Spymaster would become the Lord Regent. Morgan and Custis would safeguard the child until the plague outbreak matter at the Golden Cat was settled.

In five-to-six months' time, the Royal Protector would receive an "anonymous tip" that the heir to the throne was being held hostage by someone expendable. Under the orders of the Lord Regent, the Royal Protector would lead a contingent of City Watchmen to the Golden Cat, where they would discover Lady Emily. And once she was brought back to Dunwall Tower, the Lord Regent would then try to manipulate the Royal Protector, and the soon-to-be Empress, to his will.

There are so many flaws in that plan, it is laughable. After witnessing firsthand what Corvo is capable of, I do not believe he will ever be easily manipulated. And given the fact that the Royal Spymaster cannot even supply us with accurate information…

Does that not tell you how his plan was doomed to failure from the start?

I was growing tired of Lady Emily's endless sobbing and thrashing. It had started anew. I was reaching into my bolt pouch to retrieve a sleep dart, when a harsh glare from Master Daud kept me from doing so.

 _How much longer will the Pendletons make us wait?_

A few more minutes passed, and the sound of a carriage coming down the tracks resonated throughout the alley. The carriage came to a screeching halt, and moments later, its door flung open. The twins sat inside, and they did not bother to get out. Most likely, they thought the ground beneath them was _tainted_. It probably was. Though, who am I to talk? I live in the Flooded District.

Morgan and Custis Pendleton were identical twins. Both of them had permanent scowls etched onto their faces, and the same short hairstyle and black hair. The only way of telling them apart was by a slight difference in height, their choice of clothes, and the pitch of their voices.

From what I knew of the Pendleton family, the twins had a younger brother named Treavor. Treavor was supposedly bearable, unlike them. The twins took much pride in their power, never once being afraid to use it against others to get what they want. Yet, that is Dunwall for you. Everyone in this cursed city wants something.

"You're late," Morgan said. "I am not paying you to be late, Daud."

"Yes," Custis said. "We've had to circle the block _twice_ because of you."

"I told you that the job would be completed at noon, and that we would be here by dusk. We're on time," Master Daud retorted. "Also, the last time I checked, you were still paying me."

Both brothers snorted rather ungentlemanly. Custis spoke. "We should have brought an Overseer with us. The Abbey could use a good donation, don't you think, Morgan?"

"You would be wise to pay us and take this blubbering child from me," I growled, "before I decide to clean house of the Pendletons."

Both of the brothers' eyebrows shot up at my mask-distorted voice. "Is that a woman, Daud?" Morgan asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he answered. "But either way, my Whaler is right. Follow through with your end of the bargain, or things are going to go to the Void very quickly."

"And you would be wise not to make threats against _us_. Here, take your coin," Morgan said. He took an ornate box that was on the seat next to him and offered it to my Master.

Master Daud took the box from him and opened it, his eyes scrutinizing the contents. Satisfied, he nodded to me.

I walked forward, Lady Emily struggling against my movements. I proceeded to literally drag her across the ground, dirtying her white ensemble. I offered her to the Pendletons. She made them put a lot of effort into pulling her into the carriage. Ultimately, she failed her vain fight, and was pulled inside.

"If our paths ever cross again, Assassin," Morgan threatened, "you'll be greeted by the Overseers next time."

Master Daud smiled wryly. "If our paths ever crossed again, you'd never know it. A pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen," he concluded with a mocking bow.

Custis slammed the carriage door shut, harder than necessary, and they drove off down the tracks.

I looked at my Master, crossing my arms over my chest. "One day, I would rather enjoy slicing their necks open."

"I know you would. So give it time. I'm sure someone will pay us to rid the world of them. And when they do, you can have the contract."

"It would be my honor, Master."

Master Daud shook his head. Why, I was not sure.

I simply tilted my head, waiting to see if he'd speak.

"I wasn't expecting to lose two of my best men on this job," he said finally. "You created enough of an opportunity for us both to escape from Corvo. I suspect he'll be taking the fall for the assassination. And for that improvisation, the price of the job just went up another ten thousand."

I laughed. "I suspect the Royal Spymaster will not be happy about that. He already owes us thirty-five-thousand."

"If he knew he couldn't make the payments, then he shouldn't have hired us. For that matter, he shouldn't have lied to us. For now, let's go home. Our work here is done, and there is much more that needs to be tended to before the day is over."

I bowed my head. "Yes, Master. By your command."


	4. Returning Home

**_Chapter Four_**

 ** _Returning Home_**

* * *

Not long ago, this part of Dunwall had been known as the Rudshore Financial District, the financial heart of the Empire itself. But that was before the seawall broke, and unleashed a cataclysmic tide upon the district. It is known as the Flooded District now – a decaying cityscape where thugs attempt to rule with the same iron grip they have on Dunwall's back alleys, and unfortunate souls come to seek shelter from the prying eyes of the City Watch or the Abbey of the Everyman.

The district had also been a battleground in the days following the great flood. Everyone wanted a piece of the fallen Financial District. Yet, the worst of the battles had been fought between the looters and the aristocrats. Dunwall's poor are a vicious sort when they smell blood in the water – I've seen this behavior more than enough times since the Rat Plague began. Ultimately, I believe the looters won. They took whatever was not nailed down or destroyed. The aristocrats whose wealth was tied up in their mansions and artwork, well…they have fallen far from grace.

I should mention that the looters were not the only ones to prosper during all the chaos. It had taken several weeks, but under the leadership of our Master, we had displaced a group who had taken up residence in the old Chamber of Commerce building, claiming it, as well as the Greaves Refinery, for ourselves. I mean, in all fairness…those people should not have expected to win the battle against us. We have magic, they did not. The most damage they did was shooting Feodor in the leg and giving him a bit of a limp, and Connor broke his arm cartwheeling into a table in an attempt to avoid being run through with a kitchen knife.

No matter how badly the rival gangs want our territories, they will never take them from us. They are starting to learn that now. In fact, Central Rudshore is getting a reputation for being haunted by dark figures in strange masks. The legend says that if you approach the Rudshore Rail Station or linger too long on Agroosh Way, you will disappear _,_ never to be seen or heard from again _._

Thinking about that rumor makes me want to roll my eyes. Humans, as a whole, are so _gullible!_ It is astounding. Haunted? Ha! Sure, okay. No one actually suspects that people are living here? Honestly, I think we are just being friendly. After all, nothing says "Hello, neighbor!" like a wristbow bolt in the gut. And it is not our fault that there are plenty of hagfish just waiting to be fed.

Sorry, I digress.

Anyway, Master Daud had his eyes on Central Rudshore for more than just the security it offered. There is a tunnel network that runs underneath the Chamber of Commerce building. Both the Rudshore Gate and the Rail Station require a key to access. The Rail Station key is passed amongst the highest ranking assassins of our brotherhood, who are assigned to sentry duty that day. The Rudshore Gate key is held only by Master Daud, which can be infuriating at times when our contracts require that we leave through the Gate, and we have to ask him to unlock it for us. If Master Daud is in one of his moods, well…

It does not always go as smoothly as it should, let's put it that way.

 _Perhaps things will change, now that the Empress is dead._

Master Daud and I were using the tunnel network now, to get back to the commerce building. The tunnels are like a labyrinth – long, twisting, and dark. All the clichés one would typically expect of such a place. They also stank of mould, death, and River Krust. Water leaked through the stone walls, splashing against puddles formed on the ground in that vexatious _drip-drop, drip-drip, drop-drip._

I was keeping a steady pace beside my Master, surreptitiously keeping my gaze on him. Something about his demeanor was off, and I knew not why. It bothered me. It always bothered me…

"I know when I'm being watched, Arissa," Master Daud said suddenly, his voice eerily reverberating off the tunnel's walls.

"Forgive me, Master." I averted my gaze from him. "You just seem…troubled, is all. Have I done something to displease you?"

"Not today, no."

"Then may I inquire as to what is wrong, Master?"

"No. It's nothing that concerns you."

"As you wish."

I have known Master Daud since I was a little girl – ten years old, if I am being specific. I have been a Whaler since the fourteenth day of the Month of Songs, 1829. This will be my eighth year in service to the Whalers. And in these long years, experience has taught me that if Master Daud does not want to be pressed on a particular topic, then do _not_ press him. Still, I cannot help but wonder what is going through his head. It is not like him to be leaden.

Hmm. No. Even that does not properly describe it…but I suppose it will have to suffice for the moment.

After what seemed to be an eternity of walking in unnerving silence, we came to the Rudshore Gate. Master Daud reached into his bolt pouch, producing the key for it. He unlocked the door, and gestured for me to step through the threshold. I did, and I nodded my thanks. After he walked through, he relocked the Gate, and stowed away the key once more.

"I'll have need of you soon, Arissa," he said. "But for now, you're dismissed. Try to get some rest in the meantime."

"Yes, Master," I replied, placing my right fist on my chest, slashing it downwards to my side. This was our bow, though it was typically performed with sword in hand.

Drawing in a small amount of mana, I transversed up to the commerce building. I took off my vapor mask, threading its straps through my belt. Then, I shook out my jaw-length copper curls, trying to get them to stop clinging to my face. It is the one thing I never really considered back at the Asylum, when I was still a Novice and Master Daud had shorn my hair down to nothing more than mere fuzz. My hair and my vapor mask are now at perpetual war with one another.

In our former home, my Novice brothers and I used to share the old room where trepanations were performed. Sometimes, late in the night, I swear that you could hear the sickening sound of bone being broken by a hand drill. Each time someone said they heard that noise, they woke up with clumps of their hair on their pillow. No one knew what in the Void kept happening to us as we slept. And to be fair, we still do not really know why so many horrific things kept happening to us in that place. Not only to us, but to the Master Assassins as well – though their experiences vastly differed from ours.

As Whalers, we are trained that we have to look professional, both with the mask and without. So, it was not unusual that we Novices got the short end of the stick, so to speak. I actually had spent most of the year looking like a boy. Do not get me wrong. I am actually not complaining. Not completely. I somewhat enjoyed the little escapade. It amused me more than anything. I just hated how everyone wanted to touch my head. And how much those shears had hurt…I swear, I have scars on my scalp now, thanks to them.

Since then, though, I had been letting my hair grow back to its current length. Now that it was back at my preferred length, it just stuck to my face whenever I had to put my mask on. On sentry duty, it was one thing – I could at least duck behind something for the briefest moment to fix it. Out in the field, it is frustrating. Very, very frustrating…

…What is that noise?

I crept towards the training area, careful not to step on one of the creaking floorboards. My boots were coated in a special resin that eliminated almost all the sound I made, even when running. Yet, creaking floorboards would still give my presence away, if I did not distribute my weight correctly. Hiding behind one of the glass panels separating the training area from the hallway, I peered inside.

Billie Lurk sat on the floor, wrapping Fergus's body in a burial shroud. Carlo's body still needed to be shrouded. The lieutenant had her mask off, and I caught a glimpse of turquoise eyeshadow running down her cheeks.

"You just had to go and die, didn't you?" I heard her say. "You just had to leave me stuck with _them…_ "

Billie Lurk and I have a mutual, fervent hatred of one another. It has been that way since we were kids – or at least, I a kid and she a teenager. We have clashed more than once, with various results. Unfortunately for me, she is still my sister and my superior. I have to at least _try_ to care about her.

Even though I really do not want to.

I stepped into the room, intentionally stepping on a creaking floorboard to announce my presence. Lurk looked up at me with those deep brown eyes of hers. I was surprised that none of her usual abhorrence for me was in her expression. Though, my instincts told me that she was hiding it. After all, Billie Lurk has a reputation to uphold – that being one of a self-centered bitch.

"What do you want, runt?" she said in her usual tone of voice, reserved special just for me. "Come to laugh at me?"

"I should be," I replied bluntly. "And if this was any other occasion, then I would be. You would do the exact same thing to me. Yet, I will not disrespect our fallen, nor will I ridicule you for your closeness to Fergus."

"I didn't believe him, you know…" she murmured after a few moments of silence.

I raised an eyebrow.

"When Daud said that they were dead," Lurk sighed deeply. "From the start, I knew that bringing them along would be worthless. That they'd slow us down. And I was right. You should have made yourself useful, Arissa. You should have been the one to die instead of them."

I crossed my arms, my lips curling into a smile. "If the Royal Protector had not had his back to me when I transversed onto the pavilion, I would be lying right there next to them."

"The Royal Protector? What are you talking about? He wasn't even there."

"You mean to say that Master Daud has not told you yet? How…interesting."

"Tell me, Arissa," she growled.

"Poor dear. What, did you think the City Watch killed Carlo and Fergus? No, they did not. Corvo Attano did, because his skill surpassed theirs."

Lurk scoffed, but said nothing.

"This is ridiculous, Lieutenant," I said. "What I have ever done to you, to make you hate me so?"

"You're still alive, and two assassins _better_ than you are dead."

"Ha! You are funny. Truly, you are. But even for you, _Billie,_ that is incredibly low." I turned on my heel, and started to walk out of the room.

"Wait, Arissa…Wait."

I stopped mid-stride, though I did not turn around to face her.

When she spoke, I had to strain to hear what was spoken. "Will you…will you help me shroud them?"

I purposely delayed giving her an answer.

"Will you?"

"Help _you_? No. I will not help _you_ ," I said. "I will do what any _good_ leader would do, and help to lay the mortal bodies of those under my command to rest."

I transversed over to Carlo's body, and sat down on my knees. I pulled the burial shroud next to me, and I began to peel away his uniform. The first thing I saw was the gruesome gunshot wound. The Royal Protector was a scarily good shot, yes, but there should not be damage of this magnitude…

I shook my head, continuing on my grim task. This was not worth dwelling on right now.

When I freed the shirt from Carlo's torso, I discovered a bone charm. It began to emit its high-pitched moan, its "song." Yet, the song did not quite sound right. Believe me, I have heard it plenty of times before – I still occasionally hear that of my own. But this…This was different than what I am used to hearing. Like it was…tainted? Harsher? I should remove it last.

Although, perhaps a single touch will not hurt anything…

I reached out with my left hand, yet I stopped myself with my right.

"No," I said under my breath.

The charm's song grew louder, and louder still. It was as though it were calling to me. Trying to get me to claim it as my own. As far as I knew, no one could claim a previously bound bone charm…

"Aren't you done yet?" Lurk snapped, and I heard her footsteps behind me. "You're kidding me, right? You're not even close to done. And why do you keep staring at his bone charm like that?"

I shrugged. Truthfully, I did not have an answer. I also was not about to tell her that.

"Remove it and be done with it already."

 _Backing me into a corner, hmm? If I do not follow your order, you will go to Master Daud and tell him that I disobeyed you – and who will he listen to, his lieutenant or his commander? If I do follow your order, you are exercising your power over me._

 _Thus, I lose either way. Brilliant. And cowardly. Mostly the latter._

Without any other options, I untied the bone charm from around Carlo's neck. Even the shape of the thing was unnatural. But just holding it in my hand, I felt very sick. The song kept intensifying to the point of being deafening, and the charm itself began to emit a faint, purple light.

 _What is…what is happening?_

Suddenly, a firm hand grasped mine, quickly removing the charm from it. I coughed, and put my hand against my forehead. It felt like all the world was spinning…spinning…

"What were you thinking, Arissa?" Master Daud asked. _Firm hand…Should have known…_ "This thing is dangerous. It has more power in it than you should be handling."

 _I am going to look like a child for doing this, but…_ "She made me do it!" I pointed at Lurk. "I did not want to, but she backed me into a corner…"

Master Daud glared in Lurk's direction. "You could have killed her with this, Billie. Out of all the days you choose to do this, you do so on the day of our greatest victory? On the day we must bury two of our own?" He paused. "I'm more than disappointed with you. Get out of my sight. And while you're at it, do something useful and prepare the funeral pyre. I'll be finishing up here."

I heard Lurk growl under her breath, yet she did not speak. I also heard her transverse away.

"I never should have tried to help her." I stood up, albeit shakily, and brushed the dirt off of my trousers. "If I may ask, Master, what is that charm?"

"It's a purchase I regret making in Karnaca," he replied, looking at me with a gaze I could not quite discern. "It's a corrupted bone charm."

"They can be corrupted, Master?"

"Yes, though I'm not quite certain how. There was a woman in Karnaca who figured out how to crack the charms apart and fuse them back together again. This particular charm, she swore that it would cause sharp metal to break on my skin. And it did."

"It sounds like it would be a useful tool to have in our trade."

"It was, but it wasn't worth the cost. Each time it worked, one of my teeth would turn black and fall out. After the third time, I gave it to Carlo. Apparently, the charm only worked against swords, not bullets."

"What has the charm done to him, then? That bullet wound is far more gruesome than it should be. And what does it want with me?"

"Carlo was beginning to rot. Now that he's dead, I suspect that the charm is looking for a new host to attach itself to. Namely, you. I don't know why it chose you, but you have two options. You can either keep it, letting it slowly rot you from the inside out, or you can destroy it. For your sake, I suggest destroying it."

"Master, can I even handle the ritual? My power is nowhere near as strong as yours."

"Speaking bluntly, I don't believe that you can, but I'm willing to be proven wrong on this one. Fergus's charm will need to be destroyed anyways. Now this one does as well, especially if you don't want to become something worse than a Weeper."

I nodded. "You need not convince me to destroy the charm, Master. I will. I have no desire to turn into a thing of nightmares." _Not since I already am one, in the eyes of many…_

"A wise decision," he replied. "Now, go. As I said to Lurk, I'll finish up here. I'll send someone to get you when we're about ready to begin the funeral."

"Yes, Master," I said, and walked out of the room.

I climbed out the window of the commerce building, dropping down onto the accessway below. I walked across it, until I reached a rooftop with a lone window and several metal crates beneath it. This was my quarters, which I shared with Kieron. Initially, I was supposed to be sharing it with Aeolos, but Kieron insisted on staying close to me after we moved from the Asylum to the Flooded District. It was safer for everyone that way.

This room, though on the small side, had two twin-sized beds, some shelves above the beds, and a table. We were close to the Rail Station, and we also had three ways of exiting the room: a balcony that could get you onto the highest rooftops; the window I just entered through; and our ability to transverse.

In the Flooded District, it is not wise to be alone – even in Central Rudshore. While our base was more intact than the rest of the district, a lot of work had still needed to be done to alter the area to better suit our needs. There were still vast amounts of water damage, yes. Yet, compared to some of the other buildings I have seen, it could have been far worse. The only serious issue we have so far is the rat swarms. We take that as a small victory…more or less.

I unsheathed my blade, setting it down on the table. Then, I unattached my wristbow from its track on my left forearm, setting it – along with my bolt pouches – down next to my blade. I got a clean cloth off of the bookshelf above my bed, and I took my blade firmly by the hilt, gingerly running the cloth over the razor-sharp blade. Once it was clean, I placed it back down on the table, and placed the bloodied cloth in a laundry box. Then, I placed that box back on the shelf, and I collapsed onto my bed.

Today has been a very long day. Not only had I helped to kill an Empress, but I will be performing a very dangerous ritual soon. So, I think that entitles me to a nice, long nap…


	5. Our Solemn Night

**_Chapter Five_**

 ** _Our Solemn Night_**

* * *

"Arissa," an accented voice softly spoke. "Wake up."

 _Already? Did I not just fall asleep mere minutes ago?_

"Come on, you lazy little carrot-head. Up, up!"

"I am up…" I groaned, opening my eyes and rubbing them. "What do you want, Kieron?"

"It's time, _amore_ ," was all he said.

I nodded. I needed no more explanation than that. Kieron offered me his hand. I took it, and he helped me to stand.

Kieron stands as tall as Master Daud. He could even be as intimidating as our Master, were it not for the mischievous smirk he usually wears. And like Master Daud and I, he hailed from Serkonos – his home city being Cullero. He, too, had changed since our time at the Asylum. Well, sort of. The change had only happened within the last several weeks.

Kieron had gotten into a sparring match with one of our newest recruits. They were using standard blades, not the dulled ones we typically use for training. Kieron lost his footing and recovered with a transversal, but the damage had already been done by then – the Novice had shorn his ponytail clean off. Kieron had decided to cut his hair short after that. Were it not for his Arcane Bond swirling around his right eye and running down his cheek the way it did, I swear that I would never recognize him. Kieron and I have been best friends since childhood, and he has _always_ had long hair. It was just so…odd, seeing him without it.

Kieron wrapped his arms around my waist, his bluish-hazel eyes gazing into mine. "I've seen that look in your eyes before, my Lady. You're scared. I can't say that I blame you."

"I take it that Master Daud told you, then?" I asked.

He nodded. "You should know that Lurk has made an enemy of me, as of today."

I raised an eyebrow. "Only today? She's been my nemesis since I joined the Whalers. She started it all, too!"

"I remember. It just goes to show that a narcissist doesn't understand what they have around them."

"Meaning…?"

"That one day, Lurk will be more lonely and miserable than she is now. She'll lose everything – and most likely, by her own hand. When that day comes, she'll be lucky if any of us are even there to support her. She's scorned her family one too many times."

"Is this one of those games of yours, Kieron?"

"Oh, my dear, dear Arissa…If only you knew how many games I actually have in play," he smiled. "Normally, I wouldn't let them become this personal. For Billie, I'm making an exception. So yes, I have a plan to deal with her. It may not come to fruition now, but it will, given time. For all I know, you could kill her beforehand."

"You would not try to stop me, if I decided to try?"

"I wouldn't, no. Daud might, however."

"Hm. Interesting…" I paused. "Kieron, remind me never to get on your bad side."

He laughed. "Bad side? I don't have a bad side. I mean, look at me. I'm too handsome to be _evil._ "

"Let me guess. You are just a puckish rogue?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

I rolled my eyes. "We should go. You know…before we find ourselves on the pyre, as well."

Kieron kissed my forehead. "Agreed. Good luck, my Lady." He let go of me, bowed mockingly, and transversed away.

I retrieved my blade from the table, placing it through the loop on my belt. Then, I removed my gloves, and placed them on the table. I would not have need of them. Not for what the ritual required of me.

I took a deep breath and, using Master Daud as a focus, I transversed.

* * *

 **_O_O_O_**

* * *

After recovering from the disorientation of the long distance transversal, I took in my surroundings. My brothers – and "sister," my Master, and I were all standing aboard an abandoned whaling ship, out at sea near the Greaves Refinery. Night had fallen over the Flooded District, the only source of illumination being that of a torch Master Daud held firmly in the grasp of his right hand. There was no moon, no stars…They were shrouded by the clouds. The air itself was also frigid, nearly biting through the thick leather of my frock coat.

It is almost as though the Heavens themselves want to punish us for what we have done. That, or mourn the loss of the Empress. Or, neither, and it's just a coincidence. That one, I am more willing to believe. Does any higher power, outside of the Outsider himself, even exist?

The funeral pyre had been set in the center of the deck. Master Daud and _Lieutenant_ Lurk stood before it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Master Daud subtly nod to his left. I turned to face him, subtly nodded as well, and went to stand where I had been directed to do so. Once I had taken my place, he began to speak.

"Today is the nineteenth day of the Month of Earth, in the year of 1837. Today, Empress Jessamine Kaldwin I has died by my hands. Her life was not the only one taken, however. Carlo and Fergus Kastor lost their lives in the line of duty. Our victory could not have been achieved without their sacrifice.

"We had been deceived by the Royal Spymaster, Hiram Burrows. The Royal Protector himself, Corvo Attano, had returned from his journey across the Isles earlier than expected. He was at the Empress's side when our attack began. Knowing that their deaths were eminent, Carlo and Fergus did what they could to combat Corvo. They fought honorably, and died bravely. As such, on this solemn night, they are to be given a hero's burial. Their bodies shall be set to the flame. Their spirits will be carried on the wind. They will be reunited with their fallen brethren.

"Neither we nor the natural philosophers themselves know where we go when we die. Death remains the greatest mystery of our mortal existence. But wherever our final resting place may be, whether it is with the Outsider in the Void, or another higher power entirely, Carlo and Fergus will know true peace at long last," Master Daud paused, for a long moment of silence.

I have been to more funerals than I would like to count. Normally, I would be crying and trying not to be noticed for my display of emotion. I hated losing family. _Do I still?_ Yet, this time…it was different. I felt nothing at the loss of Carlo and Fergus. And the fact that I had sat there so intently, watching as Corvo killed them in cold blood…

The moment of silence concluded with Master Daud saying, " _Requiescat in pace._ "

" _Requiescat in pace,_ " we all echoed.

Master Daud threw the torch onto the pyre. It burst into flames, quickly enveloping body and timber alike. He turned to me then, seizing my wrist. He reached into one of his pouches, and produced the two bone charms – corrupted and uncorrupted. He pressed them into my hand, closing my fingers around them.

"Show no fear," he murmured. "Don't let the song consume you. But if it does, I'll grant you the mercy of a swift death."

I swallowed, then nodded. "Thank you, Master…"

I stepped closer to the pyre. I could already feel the intense heat of the flames on my skin. I took a deep, nervous breath. It was now my turn to speak. Then, I would destroy the charms.

This ritual…I had only seen it performed once. I have never attempted to do it myself before – until now, obviously. The ritual is _that_ dangerous – at least for us. Master Daud could do it blindfolded, if he so desired. The power provided by the Mark of the Outsider trumps that of the Arcane Bond. We were taught the ritual only so that we could avoid mistakenly doing it.

And to the best of my knowledge, I am the first Whaler attempting it.

Lucky, lucky me…

"All too often, assassins pay the ultimate price for the lives that we have chosen to lead," I said, attempting to show some semblance of sorrow in my voice. "We take the lives of men and women. We take the lives of nobles and peasants. We take the lives of the good and the bad. Whether we kill to serve the _greater good_ or we kill to aid chaos itself, it is all irrelevant in the end. We all pay the piper at some point or another. May Carlo and Fergus Kastor live on in our memories. Let us find solace in the fact that they are now at rest, and reunited with those they loved and lost."

 _I hate speeches. Did what I just say even make any sense?_

…Argh. What is that I feel? Is that…is that _pain?_

Oh, great…The world is spinning again. I guess that means the corrupted bone charm knows I am trying to destroy it. I need to hold steadfastly, refuse the corruption…

It was as though a deafeningly discordant symphony had begun to play in my head. Even my own bone charm began to vibrate against my skin in protest. While I wanted to cry out from the pain, I managed to stifle the urge – for now – by gritting my teeth and taking another deep breath.

You would be surprised by what you can do, merely by controlling your breath.

I held my hand out over the roaring inferno of the funeral pyre, and I tipped my palm over. The bone charms fell into the blaze. The "song" of the bone charms became impossibly louder.

Hm…Funny…Even my victims never scream or wail this much…

And that is saying something.

Now I held both hands over the inferno. I bellowed to the skies above in Old Serkonan, " _Si vis pacem, para bellum. Constantia et virtute, vox et praeterea nihil. Carpe noctem! Carpe noctem! Ego homini Lupus; penitusque medullis sanquinis humani flagrat sitis. Memento mori. Memento mori. Necesse est nobis tolerare. Requiescat in pace!"_

But for those who do not speak the language, the rough translation of what I just said is: _If you wish for peace, prepare for war. By firmness and courage, a voice and nothing more. Seize the night! Seize the night! I am Wolf to mankind; a thirst for human blood burned his inmost heart. Remember death. Remember death. It is necessary for us to endure. Rest in peace!_

Argh…I cannot stifle the agony any longer. The charms…The corrupted one especially…Oh, by the Outsider…It feels like my magic is being ripped from my every limb!

 _I can do this…I can do this…I have been through worse than this!_

With a quivering hand, I unsheathed my blade. Then, I cut a long, deep line across my palm. Crimson bubbled up from the wound, flowing down my hand and into the fire. As my life's blood hit the flames, it sizzled. The blood was being sucked into the bone charms, turning them from skeletal white to sanguine. The sickening sound of bone cracking suddenly resonated from both charms.

After that…well…I cannot say that I remember much.

I vaguely recall my vision turning black, and my blade falling from my hand. Then I fell, landing on top of it. It was only by a sheer _miracle_ that I had not impaled myself upon it. At worst, I would suffer cuts in the fabric of my brigade vest and broken skin.

I remember writhing. For all my will to stop, I could not. I had been powerless. The more I had tried to resist, the worse my condition became.

Eventually, someone had dragged me away. I think…there had been an explosion. Something scalding had hit my face, gotten stuck in it perhaps, and the air smelled of rot…

Someone had started barking orders. Master Daud, most likely. I had been pulled away again.

I did ultimately succumb to the darkness that held me, my last memory being that of someone calling my name…


	6. Nyctophobia

**_Chapter Six_**

 ** _Nyctophobia_**

* * *

 _YOU HELPED KILL HER._

The words reverberated in my ear over, and over, and over again. They were a malicious whisper, beckoning me towards something. But what?

At first, I thought that insanity might have finally consumed me. Everything was cast in darkness. Of course, the obvious answer to that would be that my eyes were closed. Only, they were not. I was holding my hands out in front of my face, and I could not even see them. And the cold! By the Outsider, is this what it is like in Tyvia? Because if so, I have no desire to ever go there.

 _Assuming all of this is in my head, I need to make a move. I want these incessant whispers to end._

Most likely, it was a stupid decision, but I had decided to press forward into the darkness, following the whispers. When I was a little girl, I would have never even considered it. As a Whaler, I did not care. I had to learn to love the darkness. And truth be told, I did. Just…not quite like this. I cannot deny that my heart is beating a little too quickly for my liking. Am I scared? No. Am I on edge? Definitely. And as is the norm when strange things happen to me, I did not have my blade to comfort me.

I mean, seriously. Is it really so much to ask my subconscious to actually let me _have_ my blade for _once_ in these damned dreams?

This place, whatever it is…It is lifeless. No lights, no sounds except the whispers in my ear, no smells. It made every waking second feel like an eternity. The strangest part was that, no matter the direction I traveled or the closer I came to those maddening whispers, nothing changed. And I mean _nothing_.

It was not until my boot made contact with something that I panicked. I tripped and fell. There was a loud _splash!_ as I landed in a warm pool of…the Outsider only knows what. I felt as though I had been soaked from head to toe. And there was a metallic taste in my mouth.

 _Is that…blood?_

" _Mommy!_ "

Foolishly, I looked around. I do not even know why I bothered. It is not like I would see anything, anyways.

" _Mommy, please! I'll be good! I promise, I'll be good! I promise! I promise!_ "

" _Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!_ "

" _What did I do? I'll be good, I swear!_ "

Huh…Well, at least I am not going insane. Those voices. They belong to three different girls. Children, perhaps?

I tried to stand, yet something held me firm. It felt like hands were wrapped around my wrists and ankles, and they were pulling me down deeper into the pool. Not wanting to drown, I drew in a small amount of mana, and attempted to transverse. That, too, failed.

My abilities were being suppressed.

"Enough of these games!" I growled in Serkonan. "Show yourselves!"

The environment changed so suddenly, someone may as well have flipped a switch. I was being held in a pool of blood, underneath the roof of an elegant stone pavilion. The blood was not coming from just anyone. No. It all came from the body of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin, which lay before my hands with an unnaturally dark cloud writhing – dancing? – above her corpse.

Three girls stood behind the corpse. They appeared to be of the same, or very similar, age.

The first girl, standing on the left, wore a long sleeved, white linen shirt and brown trousers – clothes that were more suited for a boy than a young girl. She was lithe of frame, with a round face that had a surprisingly sharp bone structure. Her skin was deathly pale, and covered in a spattering of yellow and purple bruises. She had very short copper colored hair. Her starkest feature was her big, slanted eyes of indigo. There was also an eerily familiar blade in her hand. It was elegantly simple in design, with a slashing tip and a brown and golden accented hilt.

The second girl, standing in the center, wore a magnificent outfit of white, all ruffles with a pretty little shawl around her shoulders and a bow tied around her neck. She had glowing skin that was a touch on the tan side. She was slender, with an oval face that had a strong bone structure, and slanted dark brown eyes. Her deep brown hair rested just below her ears, and it was decorated with a red headband and white bow. She held a blade in her hand, as well. This blade…I have never seen the likes of it before. It looks simplistic, yet deadly. Its steel was dark; its tip made for slashing; its hilt decorated with the same dark steel and a pane of wood; and its crossguard opened out like a flower. And yet, it still seemed like there was something more significant to it. _But what?_

The third girl, standing on the right, wore some kind of…servant's outfit, I think - or perhaps that of a student? She had black trousers, and a ruffled, white blouse. She was pale, and willowy. Her hair was short, its color lying somewhere between black and brown. Her face was angular, her bone structure severe, and her bright blue eyes were perfectly straight. And she, too, had a blade in her hand. It appeared to be made of bone, and was covered in vines. It did have a slashing tip, as well, but…Bone? That cannot be right…can it?

The air around me turned into a gentle breeze, carrying with it the scents of metal and something earthen. Iron, perhaps? Copper? Both? The earthen scent was something so extraordinarily rare, I had only smelled it a handful of times as a child, yet it is so recognizable that I could never forget it. It was moon dust.

Suddenly, I was yanked onto my feet by the neck. I spun around sharply, only to see the Outsider standing behind me. Startled, I recoiled back and away from him. _Is it strange that I am more afraid of him than the fact that I am soaked in blood?_ He tilted his head, and watched me for a few moments – as though he were contemplating something – before he began to speak.

" _My, how you've grown, mortal. Are you corrupting from the inside out or the outside in, I wonder? Are you succumbing to the allure of power? Desiring control of the masses? Tearing mothers away from the wanting arms of their children? Your mother hated you. She even regretted giving birth to you, saying that she should have stabbed herself in the womb to kill you before you grew. Is this the seed of your corruption, or was this a premonition on her part – that you were corrupt from conception?_ "

He began to pace around me in a circle. " _I'll admit, mortal, that you're surprising me. You've become even more dangerous than Daud. Where your master practices restraint, you rebel against it. You are everything he is…and yet are not. Do you know that, in the entirety of his life, nothing has ever frightened him? Until you, that is. The Knife of Dunwall, a living figure of legend…is terrified that you will betray him. He goes to sleep each night, wondering if tonight's the night that you finally end him, and take his place._

" _He senses the beast within you and knows that he cannot stop it. He knows that what cannot be tamed must be controlled. The same goes for those around you. Some have legitimate concerns for your health. You're quite adept at inspiring fear in those around you, but are you certain that this is what you truly desire? Tread wisely along this path of bloodlust. I can assure you, it rarely turns out well for those who have reached its end._ "

"So you drew me into the Void…just to tell me _that?_ " I asked, irritated by admonishing tone. _"_ Do you enjoy patronizing us _mortals?_ "

The Outsider shook his head disappointedly. " _Your perception, like your choices, is your own. Listen or not, act or not, ultimately all your choices end in the same way for you,_ Mortal. _My interest lies in the greater confluence of events, and your affect upon them is beginning to wan, as is my interest in you. I will leave you this final point of consideration as to the maiden, the mother, and the crone._

" _Three echoes from the Weaves of Time were placed before you, all sharing the same lust for power, control, and love – and all three blind to the thread that binds them together. Their thread is woven into the fabric of the year 1837, which will mark the beginning of a battle that will span decades. Whether you like it or not, you are bound to this fabric. It's only a matter of time before your actions dictate how deeply or loosely you are entwined within it."_

"Wait, I do not understand…How do I fit into this trinity? I am not foolish enough to _not_ recognize myself as a child, standing right there."

The Outsider shrugged nonchalantly. " _That is for you to discover as you travel upon your determined path – and for me to decide whether I am sufficiently inclined to regain an interest in answering your questions. Farewell, Arissa. Perhaps we may speak again, someday soon._ "

Just like that, the Outsider vanished. As did the lights, the wind…everything.

I was alone, and trapped inside of my own head.

In eternal darkness…

 _Okay…I desperately need to wake up…Now!_

 _Now would be good!_


	7. The Return

**Author's Note:** Hello, dear readers! Just a really quick note for you guys. Thanks for all of your support thus far, I really appreciate it! I'd just like to point out that, yes, this chapter really is this short. It was originally intended to be a part of _Chapter 8 - The Ballet of Blades_ , but as I was editing it, I realized that this section did not make much sense in the overall context of the rest of chapter. So I decided that it was best to be released as a teeny, tiny little chapter, instead of cutting it out of the story altogether. And that's all I got, haha. I hope you guys are all doing well, and that you enjoy the coming chapters! :)

* * *

 ** _Chapter Seven_**

 ** _The Return_**

* * *

Perhaps I have more vivid dreams than most, but…

Have you ever had a dream, or a nightmare, where the ground is literally ripped out from beneath you, and you are falling, falling, falling through the air – only to awaken once you hit the bottom of the abyss? Your mortal body even reacts to the dream.

I have experienced this sensation more than once. That is what being thrust out of the Void feels like. At least to me, anyways.

I was soaked in sweat, and my body frustratingly could not decide if it was hot or cold. My eyes had snapped open, and were unusually blurry. My breathing was far too heavy, and I embarrassingly was shaking like a leaf. But it was over…It was finally all over…

I am free of that…that _torment._

 _Yet…where am I?_

Everything is so…fuzzy. I must have…hit my head or something. That would make the most sense, would it not? I was…doing a ritual, and something happened…I cannot seem to recall what. Then the Outsider spoke to me and trapped me inside of my own head…

…Right?

 _By the Void, what have I gotten myself into now?_

I am sorry…Really, I am. Yet, I sincerely need a moment to…try and contemplate all of this…


	8. The Ballet of Blades

**_Chapter Eight_**

 ** _The Ballet of Blades_**

* * *

I am…better now. So where was I? Ah, yes…

Once feeling had returned to my body, and my eyes were no longer blurred, I forced myself to sit up and take in my surroundings. I quickly realized that I had awoken in Master Daud's quarters, instead of my own. Exactly how I ended up here, I could only surmise. The amount of dried, bloodied cloth I am covered in might have something to do with it. Or the fact that I am wearing nothing except for the strips of cloth I use to bind my breasts, and my trousers.

My condition must have been bad, if Master Daud decided to intervene. At least, I am assuming he did. Under normal circumstances, I would have expected to awaken in my shared quarters with Kieron hovering over me, or in the infirmary with Rapha eyeing me like a hawk.

 _Perhaps it is better not to dwell on it, and simply find out what happened…Yes, that makes the most sense. And you know what? I will even think positively for once. Better to be awake and dazed than to be asleep and trapped in eternal darkness._

The table on the back wall had my belongings meticulously lain out across it. Much to my surprise, I managed to get off the bed and stand without issue. I only lost my balance once as I crossed over to the other side of the small loft.

I began to dress. Contrary to how it may seem, our uniforms are rather intricate, and consist of three different layers. Not to mention, they also differ depending on your rank within our " _gang_."

Standard no matter what rank you are is a linen shirt underneath a white brigade vest that is buttoned high on your neck. We all have short-sleeved, leather frock coats; black leather, large cuff gauntlet gloves – with the glove on our left forearm being specially modified for the wristbow's track; and light brown, leather calf boots.

Now, here is where the differences begin.

Novices wear a pale blue frock coat; red trousers; a red belt around their waist; and a brown shoulder belt.

Master assassins, like myself, wear a black frock coat; brown trousers; a brown belt across our waist; and a brown shoulder belt.

Master Daud and _Lieutenant_ Lurk's uniform matches ours down to almost every detail. The differences in their uniform being that their frock coat is red and their trousers are black.

To an outsider, what I am about to say will be strange, but…so much of my life has been spent in uniform, that it has become a part of who, and what, I am. Without it, or some part of it, I feel…lost – meaningless, even. Mock me for it, or do not…I honestly do not care. You would only be mocking what you yourself have no understanding of.

I tightened the belt around my shoulder, placing my bolt pouch and other various pouches in their proper places, and I sheathed my blade. Then, I put my wristbow in a pouch that I knew could support its weight, and threaded the straps of my vapor mask through my belt.

 _I am whole again._

I took my time walking down the staircase, and I approached Master Daud's desk. Despite my soft steps, the floorboards creaked. Master Daud looked up from the book he was reading, and shook his head – though whether in amusement or irritation, I cannot say.

"You're in pain," he said, his eyes shifting to look at my left forearm. "You wouldn't have kept your glove off and your sleeve rolled up, otherwise."

I hesitated about admitting it, but he was right. I was in agony. "You are right, Master," I whispered. "I am. And thank you for the new shirt and brigade vest."

Master Daud nodded, setting his book down. "The ritual nearly destroyed you. But you always were a lucky one, weren't you? Let me see your arm."

I held my arm out, and Master Daud began to unravel the bandage.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have been fascinated by two things: death and magic. Though, I suppose most people are…by magic, I mean. _Are "normal" people even fascinated by death?_ Yet, most people are not fortunate, like I am. Those who are loyal to Master Daud sometimes are able to share in his powers, and whatever resistances he has. As I have recently learned, I am luckier than most.

The absolute joke of it is that I spent seven years as a Novice, and only _last year_ did I finally get my Arcane Bond. But even then…it had been the Outsider who had given it to me. For what reasons, I do not know. The only thing I do understand about it is that those of us who are lucky enough to get one have no control as to where it appears. Some of my brothers have it on their face. Others on their wrist, their ankle…their back, their chest…the arm or leg…other more _interesting_ places, supposedly – I have never wanted to know exactly _where_. Mine starts on the palm of my hand and swirls up to end just beneath my elbow.

Yet, something is…wrong with it.

It is darker than it ever has been before.

"By the Void…" I breathed.

"I'll be honest, Arissa. I had an idea of what was going to happen to you during the ritual. But this is a different outcome than I was expecting."

"Were you expecting me to die?"

 _I cannot believe I just said that out loud…_

Master Daud's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps I was. Perhaps I wasn't. Does it matter?"

"I suppose not. Are we not all expendable, in your eyes?"

"Should I think differently?"

"Forgive me, Master," I relented. "I should not have said that."

"You have a tendency to say a lot of things you shouldn't."

I bowed my head. "I know."

"Even with the Outsider's Mark on my hand, that ritual still takes a toll on me. Your Arcane Bond should have been destroyed, and you along with it. Instead, it was fatally damaged, and you were on the brink of death."

"What do you think it means, Master?"

"That you shouldn't play coy with me," Master Daud replied, sternly. "You were muttering in your sleep. He spoke to you, didn't he?"

I barely stifled the urge to sigh. "Yes, Master…"

"What did he want with you?"

"He went on this long-winded diatribe that he was disappointed in me, for the path I am following. Then he trapped me in eternal darkness. There was no light, no sounds, no…anything. It was just _dark._ "

Master Daud let go of my arm, and met my gaze. "Do you know how long you've been out?"

"No, Master."

"Almost a week," he replied. "The Empress's funeral is tomorrow. The timing can't be coincidental…"

"What do you mean?"

"The Black-Eyed Bastard's taken an interest in you. Why, I can only guess. You could put coin on him never giving you a straight answer. But your abilities have matured greatly within the last year, and you now share in all of my resistances. It's either a testament to your loyalty, or _other forces_ at play. I'm not certain which it is."

I tilted my head. Something about my Master's demeanor was…off. I just cannot place what it is. It is as though there is something he wants to say, yet does not want to admit.

He taught me himself how to search for those signs. It meant that someone was hiding something. So what is my Master hiding from me?

"Master, are you all right?" I asked. "You seem…tired."

"I've spent the last week siphoning mana into your Arcane Bond to keep it from collapsing entirely." He paused. "Aside from the pain, how do you feel?"

"I woke up dazed, and I am still a little disoriented, but…Otherwise, I feel okay."

"That's good. We should see if your Arcane Bond is still useable. It'd be a shame if you lost your magical talents."

"Agreed. What would you have me do?"

Master Daud contemplated his answer. "Think you can talk and dance at the same time?"

"When have I not been able to?" I said with a smirk.

"Good," Master Daud replied, walking out from behind his desk and to the center of the room. "Put on your glove."

I nodded, rolling down my sleeve and putting on my glove, cringing as I did so. I also attached my wristbow to its track. Then I walked to the center of the room, wrapping my fingers around the hilt of my blade and sliding it out from my belt. Immediately, I took up a combative stance.

Master Daud prowled towards me, drawing his blade and twirling it by the hilt a couple of times. The two of us began to slowly circle one another, measuring the other's worth. Waiting to see who would strike first, and attempt to draw first blood.

I created an opening. Master Daud took the bait, rushing towards me to strike. I swiftly glided off to the side. With his back turned to me, I charged him. On reflex, he spun. Our blades locked together, steel ringing loudly against steel.

"Arissa, you can hit harder than _that,_ " he growled, sliding his blade upwards and pushing me away. "Stop holding back!"

I staggered backwards, shaking my head clear. He was already moving again, mere seconds away from bringing his blade down on me.

"Transverse!" he commanded.

My bone charm, called Void Channel, began to vibrate against my skin as it realized I was drawing in mana. A second later, I transversed away from my Master. I reappeared behind him, and I swear that I was grinning. _Thank the Outsider…my magic has not been taken from me!_

"Good! How do you feel after that?"

"Well, my arm feels like it is on fire," I replied. "Past that, not too bad."

I transversed to another position, and charged forward. I delivered a sharp kick to my Master's side, which he seemed to barely feel, and brought my blade down on him. Master Daud blocked the strike once more, and forced me to transverse away to avoid being skewered.

"Do you remember when I said that the Royal Protector should be taking the fall for the Empress's death?"

"How could I forget?"

"Corvo has been arrested for her death, and is rotting in Coldridge Prison as we speak. Meanwhile, the aristocracy is quarreling amongst itself as to when the best time to behead him is." Master Daud transversed behind me. This time, I spun. Yet again, our blades locked together. "I sent word to the Spymaster that the price of the job went up. I haven't heard back from him, and he's late on the payment."

I did not even try to push him away. Instead, I transversed, putting distance between him and I. Then I held up my left hand, and ensnared my Master in a tethering.

"I am not surprised," I said. "The Spymaster is mendacious. But if he thinks he can get out of paying us, he is sadly mistaken. We did _not_ kill an Empress just to be screwed out of the coin."

Master Daud transversed out of the tethering. "If I were the Spymaster, I'd pay the assassins I hired, and make the problem go away entirely. Otherwise, I'd start counting the days I have left. I'd only be using one hand." Now he ensnared me in a tethering, and began to pull me towards him.

Every time I get tethered, I panic. I buy into the false pretense that I cannot escape it. Of course, this time was no different. But then I calmed my nerves, and knew what needed to be done.

I drew in a very small amount of mana, and kept twirling around and around. The tethering struggled to keep me within its grasp, until finally, it broke. I flipped through the air, landing in a perfect crouch on the other side of the room.

"Impressive," Master Daud said. "You've been practicing."

"I would not want my subordinates to get ahead of me," I half-joked.

"As it should be. It appears that your Arcane Bond is functioning perfectly, despite its darker nature."

"As long as it works, I do not care what color it is. Thank you for everything you have done, Master."

"You can thank me by continuing to fight," he replied with a smirk. Then he rushed me. Again. And _again_ , our blades locked. We were walking each other around in a circle, neither of us wanting to relent to the other. "You didn't think I'd let you off that easy, did you?"

I laughed. "I would never ask for it any other way."

"Dunwall is beginning to writhe and change, Arissa. Whether for the better or the worst, it's too soon to tell. This city's always been tangled up worse than a bag of snakes."

"Do you have a plan to deal with the Spymaster?"

"Not yet. We may have bigger concerns to worry about than him."

"Such as?"

"Nothing that need concern you."

Finally, I broke the stalemate. I redirected the force of my Master's blade against mine as best as I could, and I twisted away from him. As I twisted, I kicked his knee out from under him, and he fell. I brought my blade down, and I…

…

…

…

…Ended up pinned on the ground, with Master Daud's free hand wrapped tightly around my throat, and his blade pressed uncomfortably against it. My blade was nowhere in sight.

 _What…did I do? Was I about to…? No, no, no…I…I would never hurt him…I…_

I blinked. "W-what…did I…d-do?"

Master Daud's steely-blue eyes were glaring into mine. "You slipped," was all he said.

"Master, I…I do not even k-know what…h-happened…"

"I know."

"P-please…You're hurting me…" I whispered in Serkonan.

Master Daud closed his eyes for a few moments, and sighed heavily. Then he looked at me again. "You're going to get up, retrieve your blade, and sheathe it. Nod if you understand."

I nodded.

Master Daud stood up, but kept his blade drawn. "It's over there."

I walked over to the staircase, and picked up my blade. Immediately, I sheathed it, and I kept my hands in front of me the whole time.

I sat down, and ran my hands through my hair. "I'm sorry, Master…"

Master Daud shook his head, then sheathed his blade and came over to sit down next to me. "I know you are," he replied in Serkonan. "When was your last kill?"

"The Empress's assassination."

"Right. A Watchman, wasn't it?"

I nodded.

"And you're not feeling those…urges, are you?"

"No, Master."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, Master."

Master Daud and I both fell silent.

Several minutes later, I said suddenly, "Her death is haunting you, isn't it?"

"And there you go again…" he muttered. "Why are you even asking that?"

"You seem…off. Like you have doubt or…regret, maybe – I don't know which. I'm merely worried about you. Forgive me if I spoke too freely again."

"For someone who lacks empathy, I'm surprised you're even concerned," Master Daud replied, a tone in his voice I could not quite discern. "You weren't the only one the Outsider spoke to this week. There's a storm coming, Arissa. It's threatening to tear apart everything I've spent decades building. I was told that there'd be consequences for what we've done. And, truth be told…I already knew I was going to pay for this one."

"Then why go through with it?"

"That's the question, isn't it? Why did I go through with it?" He shrugged. "But what's done is done. I can't change the past, but maybe I can affect the future."

"We both will," I said quietly, crossing my arms.

Master Daud's expression turned skeptical. "How so?"

"The shortest possible version I can give you is that the fate of the _Empire_ rests on your shoulders, but the fate of the _Whalers_ rests on mine. Our fates are somehow intertwined. The Outsider has never exactly been forthcoming with _how_ that came to be, though."

My Master seemed to contemplate that for a long while. "Hm. He knows I can't abide a mystery. Unfortunately, you've inherited that trait from me. I'll assume he's given you a mystery of your own to solve. You don't have to tell me what it is – I know you'll talk when you're ready to. But mine starts with a name, given under the guise of a _gift._ "

"What's the name?"

Master Daud's expression suddenly became elegiac, as he responded, "Delilah."


	9. Minds of a Similar Nature

**_Chapter Nine_**

 ** _Minds of a Similar Nature_**

* * *

"Delilah…Delilah…Delilah…Hm. That's not exactly a pleasant name, is it?" I shook my head. "What would you have us do, Master? Do you think that this… _Delilah_ warrants investigation?"

"As of right now, no," Master Daud replied. "A name that could mean literally anything is the least of my concerns at the moment. We need to lie low. I shouldn't have to tell you why."

"You don't. What would you like to see done in the meantime, then?"

"See to it that the Novices' training becomes prioritized. Since we won't be taking on any new contracts, it'll give you and the Mentors ample opportunity to work on developing their skillsets, and finding out which of them are loyal to the cause," he paused for a moment. "And under no circumstances are you to go beyond the Rail Station, _unless_ you're accompanied by a Mentor, Thomas, or Kieron. Is that understood?"

I barely stifled the urge to sigh. "Yes, Master."

"If you can't control your urges, then maybe you can kill some of the rats scurrying around the place. The Outsider knows we got plenty of them."

I looked at the floor, sighing deeply.

Master Daud placed his hand under my chin, and made me look at him. " _Ars est celare artum,_ Arissa. Remember that, and maybe you'll live past your eighteenth birthday."

I nodded, choosing not to speak.

"Now, go. Head to the infirmary and have Rapha check over your wounds. The last thing you want is for them to become infected."

I stood up, and bowed respectfully. "Yes, Master."

I transversed to the infirmary, and…Damn it. I just realized that I probably should not have done that. And that I should have just walked there. _Ugh._ I need to be mindful…keep my use of magic to a minimum…I cannot afford to be foolish and risk losing my abilities altogether.

 _So no magic, and I cannot leave our base…_

 _This is going to get very tiresome, very quickly._

Located across the street from the commerce building, this infirmary cannot so much as _dream_ as to being anything like what we had back at the Asylum. It has four beds that are smaller than most of my brothers, and ridiculously little storage space. Upstairs is where Mentor Rapha decided to make a laboratory, and only the Outsider himself knows what goes on up there. Truth be told, I have never been too keen on finding the answer.

"Ahh…There she is," Mentor Rapha said, as he came down the staircase. "My favorite patient. How are you, Arissa?"

Mentor of the Supernatural, Rapha Ortelius hails from Caulkenny, down in the Isle of Morley. He is somewhat shorter than Kieron and fairer of skin, with short, bedraggled black hair that accentuates his dark green eyes. He is also the only physician we have, making him an invaluable member of our _gang_.

"Well," I said, making sure that I spoke Gristolian instead of Serkonan, "I am not dead, so…I am doing okay."

Mentor Rapha smiled. "You must be like a cat, with your nine lives. But I'd worry about how many you have left."

"Mentor, I consider myself lucky if I wake up the next morning. Now, where do you want me?"

"Where you are is fine. I'll also need you to strip down to your waist, removing your gloves and your wristbow. Your binding can stay in place."

I sat down on the bed behind me, and begrudgingly did as he asked.

Mentor Rapha went to the opposite side of the room to retrieve a tray. When he came back over to me, he laid me down and brandished a scalpel. With a skilled hand, he began to cut away the strips of bloodied cloth. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long. Though, my heart nearly burst out of my chest when I realized that I had awoken in our Master's quarters."

"Daud insisted on taking care of you personally. And who am I to argue with his will? I am merely a humble Whaler, after all." He set the scalpel down on the tray. "Now, let's see here…"

I inhaled sharply, as my Mentor prodded a section of the wound with his finger.

"You should be thankful that these lacerations aren't as bad as they look. Had your blade gone deeper, I'd have been attempting to sew your intestines back into your abdomen."

"That is a grotesque thought…" I muttered.

"How much pain are you in?"

"It hurts, but it will not kill me. The pain in my Arcane Bond, however…"

"I see. Describe the pain to me."

"I would _maybe_ consider cutting my own arm off, if it made the pain stop."

"Well, that would only make the pain worse, but…It doesn't matter. Are you responsible for the removal of the bandages?"

I shook my head. "No. Master Daud is."

"Did he find reason for concern?"

"Not that I am aware of, Mentor."

"Good. The bandages can stay off, then. However, you must severely limit the use of your magic for the time being."

I nodded in agreement.

"Is there anything else?" he asked.

"Physically…No, Mentor."

"How about mentally?"

I cringed as he prodded a different section of the cut. I did not answer his question.

"I understand your hesitancy, Arissa. You don't have to speak if you don't wish to. Though, I'd like to remind you that I am your friend first, your mentor second, and your physician third. Say the word, and nothing will leave the confines of this facility."

I took a deep breath, and sighed. "It is not that I do not want to talk…but I do not know how to."

"Well…why don't you start wherever you feel most comfortable, and we'll see where the conversation leads us?"

"Okay," I said, and exhaled an unsteady breath. "Master Daud wants us to prioritize training of the Novices. I am in full agreement with that, and think we should proceed as soon as possible. Red-less Circle."

"Message received, Commander."

The Red-less Circle is a code phrase that just kind of…caught on, after we moved to the Flooded District. It means to inform the Circle – the Circle being me, Thomas, the Mentors, and Kieron – of what needs to be done…and leaving Billie Lurk out of our business entirely. In these instances, Thomas ends up taking on all of the responsibilities that Lurk is _supposed_ to be performing, yet is not.

Now, do I have a right to cut Lurk out of this Circle entirely, especially given that she is my superior? Oh, absolutely not. But I do it anyways. The benefits of not having her around vastly outweigh the risks of punishment.

Mentor Rapha took a bottle of alcohol, and poured some of the liquid onto a cloth. "What else is on your mind, my youngest sibling?"

I hesitated. I was hoping that, by staying silent, he would drop the subject. Instead, he waited, very patiently, for me to speak.

"Promise me your lips will stay sealed," I relented.

"On my honor. Bide a moment." Mentor Rapha set the cloth down and transversed away. After several, long moments – and what sounded like a series of transversals – he reappeared and picked up the cloth. "No one can hear us. No one can enter this building. Will that suffice?"

I nodded and closed my eyes. Then I whispered, "I am afraid."

"Of what?"

"It is a very long story, and it begins with how I received my Arcane Bond…" I proceeded to tell my Mentor about the Outsider, and how he has been conversing with me. How he gave me my Arcane Bond. The everlasting darkness he imposed on me while I was unconscious. The mysteries. The warnings.

Everything.

By the time I had concluded, Mentor Rapha had finished cleaning the entirety of my wound, as well as the minor wound on my cheek, and began redressing it.

"You're a very blessed girl. From what I understand, a very select few ever converse with the Outsider…" Mentor Rapha trailed off. "And all of this has been happening since the Asylum?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Does anyone else know?"

"Only Kieron knows the truth. Master Daud knows very little. At least, I think he does – he may know more than he is letting on. And this is…not exactly a subject I enjoy talking about."

"A trinity of three children, who are bound together by a single thread…It is quite the mystery indeed, and certainly a thrilling one."

"Thrilling? More like frustrating. The absolute _last_ thing I want is to spend decades of my life, locked in never-ending combat. I am terrified enough as it is that our survival could very well depend on me!"

"Have you not done well so far?"

"I have, but…"

"If something tragic comes to pass, then I've no doubt that you'll see us through it. But you cannot simply lay there and tell me that you're not even _slightly_ curious as to why you're a part of that trinity."

I sighed, and opened my eyes. "Okay, fine. Maybe I am just a _little_ curious."

"Do you have any suspicions as to what your significance might be?"

"No. I was nothing more than a ritualistic catalyst to my Mother. A way to hurt people, like the Father I never knew."

"Your mother used you as a catalyst?" He sounded sad.

"Have you never wondered about all the damned scars I have? They are there because of _her._ "

Mentor Rapha prepared another alcohol-soaked cloth, and cleaned his hands with it. Then he helped me sit up, and sat down next to me. "I am very sorry to hear that. No child deserves to go through that kind of pain. But I understand that what's done is done, and that the past cannot be altered. Something good has come from this, however."

"Really? Like what?"

"Answers are always found in blood and flesh, Arissa. They can even be found in the deepest reaches of the subconscious. We must only find a way to harvest them."

I ran my right hand through my hair, sighing deeply. "And what if we cannot? What then?"

"I'll have to do some research, but already, I have several ideas. Before you ask, no, I will not tell you them. I must contemplate them more. Refine them until I am certain they will work."

"I am not going to like any of them, am I?"

Mentor Rapha shrugged.

"I just…I do not understand it, Mentor. How is a monster like me somehow important to this cursed world?"

"What separates you and I, Arissa?"

I tilted my head questioningly. "I am not sure that I understand what you mean."

"You're an assassin through and through. I am a disgraced vivisectionist. What makes your work any different than what mine used to be?"

I contemplated my answer for several, long moments. Then I shook my head. I truly have no idea where he is trying to go with this.

"There is an astronomically thin line between genius and insanity. What separates the mind of a vivisectionist from the mind of a killer? They do not always comprehend emotions, and thus are detached from them. They anger and get frustrated easily. They both firmly believe in the causes they follow. They have certain ticks, or addictions, or whatever you'd like to call them.

"A killer hunts Humans, while a Hunter kills Animals. A vivisectionist dissects them both. Are Humans themselves, however, not Animals? Both the Kingdom of Man and the Kingdom of Animal have social classes – praising the strong over the weak, and rightfully so. Each have laws, or rules, and punish those who disobey them. They kill to eat…"

"If I may interject, Mentor?"

"Of course."

"Are you saying that I am no different than you?"

"Do both of our professions not end with the loss of life?"

"They do."

"But unlike assassins, vivisectionists are extolled for their acts. Look at Anton Sokolov, for example. He is an absolutely deranged madman, but weak-minded people prop him up like he is some kind of god. People like you need to exist, Arissa. Someone has to balance the scales of good and evil, as it were."

"So I am…what, then? A necessary evil?"

"Yes," he replied, firmly. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you some questions. To help better understand you."

"Ask, then."

"You've said that you get…urges to kill. What do they feel like?"

I folded my hands in my lap. "They start out like this…pressure, in my head. The more I ignore it, the more it throbs, and throbs, and throbs…Then it starts to hurt. Sometimes I see blood, or I dream of it, and it…puts me into some kind of a trance. I _have_ to watch the blood spill, and I _have_ to watch as the light leaves the eyes. That part…That part gives me the greatest relief…And pleasure."

"Do you hear voices in your head?"

"No."

"Do you take trophies?"

"Yes, though not with my contracted kills."

"But with your personal kills?"

I nodded.

"What do you take?"

"Sometimes I take a lock of hair. Sometimes a piece of clothing, or a ring, a necklace…It has to be very personal to my target. I have gone so far as to contemplate taking a finger or even a toe…I have not yet done so, though."

"Is it fair to say that your trophies are unique to each victim?"

I nodded again.

"How many lives have you taken?"

"Between my personal life and my professional life?" I paused. "I…I do not know. Is that…is that bad?"

Mentor Rapha put his hand on my shoulder, and squeezed it. "No. It is not uncommon for people in our line of work to get…lost in the moment, as they say. But I would hope that it is no more than several dozen, at most."

"Why?" I asked.

Mentor Rapha waved his hand dismissively, and sighed. "Forgive me for my ramblings. It's just my inquisitive mind at work. But I see it now. It is _imperative_ that you learn how to blend into society."

I tilted my head, remaining silent.

"There is only so much that Daud can teach you. Not _once_ have I seen him prepare you, or any of the others, in the event of a catastrophic incident that results in the disbandment or destruction of the Whalers. You are, and always will be, a killer, Arissa, and you _need_ to be an incredibly well-prepared one. If not, the only place for you will be on a headsman's block. Is that the fate you want?"

"What? No!"

"Hence why I will be taking you under my wing, and I will convince the others to do the same. You may choose to learn how to be a vivisectionist, a physician, or a master practitioner of black magic from me. I will enlist Thomas to teach you master strategy, and Killian to teach you the finer points of alchemy."

"This is beginning to sound like you want me to be a Royal…something or other."

"No. You will be whatever you need to be to survive."

 _Did I just roll my eyes? I am not entirely sure._ "If you say so. Yet, just so we are clear…This is not another one of Thomas's schemes, is it?"

"No, it's not."

"Very well…I am taking your word for it, Mentor," I replied. "Now, uh…can I please get dressed? I am getting really tired of being in nothing but this stupid binding."

Mentor Rapha stood up, and crossed to the other side of the room. "Go ahead, but keep your sleeve rolled up."

I began to dress. "Why?"

"I'm giving you a dose of morphine. You'll be staying here tonight."

"Yes, Mentor."

By the time I had finished dressing, Mentor Rapha already had a syringe prepared. He tied a band tightly around my upper arm, and folded my hand into a fist. Then he felt around for a vein, and when he found it…

I swore viciously in Serkonan.

"My apologies," he said, somewhat sheepishly. He pulled the syringe out of my arm, and untied the band.

I laid back down, and closed my eyes. "Is morphine stronger than laudanum?"

He smiled wryly. "You'll be finding out soon enough."

"Then…go take care of that…thing I told you about. And I will just lay here and…I do not even know…"

Mentor Rapha ruffled my hair. I heard him moving some things around – cleaning up, perhaps? – until he walked away a few moments later.


	10. The Tides Are Changing

**_Chapter Ten_**

 ** _The Tides Are Changing_**

* * *

 _Page 203_

 _Diary Entry: Sick and Bored in the Month of Nets_

 _The Flooded District, the City of Dunwall, Isle of Gristol_

 _Twentieth Day, Month of Nets, 1837_

 ** __O_O_O__**

 ** _Oh_** _diary, how I neglect you so. Not that you've ever meant much to me to begin with. What's the point of writing down my innermost thoughts, if everyone is going to keep reading them anyway? What, do I have to place a hex or something on the cover? I mean, seriously. This is getting ridiculous!_

 _As of this morning, I've been put into exile in my quarters. I have a cold. Again. And a fever. Again. Sickness has been spreading through our ranks like wildfire lately, and Mentor Rapha believes it's because of how closely confined we are. He said that what is happening to us is like what happens to sailors on long voyages. We are all in close proximity, we share many things due to the growing scarcity of necessary resources, and the moment one of us gets sick, others are soon to follow. It's amusing, really. We had barracks in the Asylum, but we never much got sick back in those days. I suppose it's a testament to what a proper roof and structurally sound buildings will do for you. Not all of this decay and filth we have now._

 _Moving to the Flooded District was the stupidest idea we've ever had. Well, maybe not exactly_ _ **ever**_ _had, but it's up there._

 _You want to know what has happened since my last entry. Well, a lot of things have happened. Many of them aren't worth mentioning, so I won't. Yet, where should I start? Here is as good a place as any, I suppose._

 _It's been a little over two months since the death of Her Majesty, Empress Jessamine Kaldwin I. The Lord Regent, Hiram Burrows – that bald weasel – has been in power for just as long. Dunwall has started to twist. It is becoming unfamiliar to me. What was it that Master Daud said? That this city was always tangled up worse than a bag of snakes? I think that was it. Anyways, he wasn't wrong._

 _The Lord Regent has actively sought to destroy everything Jessamine built. I've gone so far as to consider proposing to our Master that we eliminate the Regent once and for all. Perhaps install the Royal Protector as Emperor, until Lady Emily can be recovered. Emperor Corvo Attano. That's a scary thought. Could a foreign-born even be Emperor? As far as I know, Corvo hasn't been executed yet, so—Huh. It just might work. Or maybe all of that is the fever talking. It's hard to say. Think? Ugh._

 _I hate being sick._

 _Regardless, I feel that if Dunwall keeps heading down the path it presently is, we might have no choice but to do—something. Who's to say we'll do anything at all? Just as the city is changing, so, too, is Master Daud. I'm worried about him. He's not himself, and I do not know why. I'm afraid to ask him his feelings, even if he does have some modicum of trust for me. While I'm at it, I wish to admit my fear that—that he'll abandon us all. Yet, he wouldn't do that._

 _Right?_

 _Oh, by the Outsider's black eyes, what if he does? What then? Could the Whalers continue to exist, without the guidance of our Master? Yes, I am doubting myself. Shut up, diary. Don't judge me. You're nothing but leather and paper. An inanimate object. You can't judge me!_

 _Why in the name of the Void did I just write that!? I'm losing my mind. I'm absolutely losing my mind. Okay. Okay. Focus. New topic. Yes. That seems like a good idea. Okay, uh—Think, Arissa, think. Topic, topic. Oh! Topic._

 _On the eve of the Empress's funeral, some of my brothers had decided to attend the procession that would lead into the Tower District the following morning, the twenty-sixth day of the Month of Earth. In my mentally impaired state thanks to my first, and last, encounter with morphine, I had agreed to come along, not realizing that they had intended to blend into the crowd. My memory of that night is still spotty, but I can say three things for certain._

 _One: Agreeing to let Mentor Killian dye my hair was a mistake. Dyes aren't supposed to last this long! It hasn't even begun to fade yet. The only logical explanation I can think of is that he used whalebone powder in the recipe. Yes, I've demanded answers from him. Every time, he snickers and changes the subject. It is absolutely infuriating. I just want my natural color back._

 _Two: I had to wear makeup. Makeup! Ugh, the stuff is terrible. Kohl is sticky, and I spent more time getting it in my eyes than on my lashes. I got the shadow everywhere. And the lipstick!_ _ **How!?**_ _How do you get it straight, without smudging it or missing your lip entirely!? I don't care that I'm a woman – never again will I wear cosmetics, even if my life depends on it._

 _Three: I wrote down three, didn't I? Yes, I did. I can't seem to string a coherent thought together. Or at least, it's hard to. I cannot recall what the third thing was. Oh well. I suppose three will have to be this. My Mentors were proud of me that day, and on many days since. Thomas and Mentor Aedan say I look like a native Gristolian right now, what with my pale skin and all – and they would know, as Thomas is from Driscol, and Mentor Aedan is a Dunwall native. These small compliments, they give me—hope. Hope that perhaps I—that maybe I can be more than just a "necessary evil" to this world. On the days I have time to myself, my mind forces me to reflect on what I am doing, what I am becoming—_

 _What am I? More importantly, who am I? I spend too many a day utterly confused. Master Daud tells me one thing; my brothers tell me something else entirely. Then I have the Outsider's words haunting the back of my mind. I don't know who, or what, to believe in anymore. I'm trying to think how to phrase this. Like—It's like when I was watching the people standing next to me in the crowd, as the casket containing the Empress's corpse went by. I've been under the impression that all people hate their rulers, no matter how kind or just they are. Does that concept even exist? With Jessamine, maybe it did. People wept for her. They wept!_

 _If I were to die, would my brothers weep for me?_

 _Ever since I was forbidden from leaving the grounds of our base without an escort, I've been stressed. Challenged. Fighting my urges to kill has been no small feat. They once got so bad that Kieron had to sleep dart me. He told me afterwards that he did it to protect me. We both know that was a lie. He did it so that I wouldn't hurt anyone. And that scares me – that I had actually reached the point of being a danger to everyone around me. When I can, I dedicate my time to training the Novices personally. It's been a good distraction. They've been taking well to my structured lessons, and the Mentors are operating at peak efficiency._

 _Were it not for the distraction, however—I'm scaring myself. I don't know what I'm capable of anymore. And I don't know what to do, or who to talk to. I feel like a caged animal, and—_

 _Aside from the fact that I might go on a killing spree and have to be put down like a rabid dog, the City Watch has begun to dispose of the plague-infected bodies very near to our home. It's blatantly obvious that not all of the bodies dumped are dead. Some of those poor bastards are still alive. They could be Weepers for all I know. What happens if one wanders into our base? Given how fast a common cold spreads through our ranks, how long would it take for the plague to? Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks?_

 _We are murdering more rats than we are people. We have_ _ **not**_ _taken a single contract since Her Majesty's death. Coin isn't an issue, but it's only a matter of time until food and elixir are. That doesn't just go for us – that goes for the whole city. Things are bad. They'll only get worse._

 _Outsider's eyes, I'm too tired for my own pessimism right now. I need to sleep. To get better. It's impossible for the Novices to train themselves, and someone needs to fill the hole that Master Daud is leaving. He is with us physically, but he is absent from us mentally. And I'll be damned if I let Lurk slither her way into command during these troubled times._

 ** _…_**

 ** _Lieutenant_** _, if it is you stealing my diary like I suspect it is, this message is for you._

 _I am the monster that you all make me out to be. There is nothing but cold blood that runs through my blackened heart. The moment you step out of line is the moment that I will put you down. I will not tell you how I plan to do it, but it will be creative, I promise you that. Do you honestly think you can beat me forever? My ambition is greater than yours. It always has been. So back off now and live, or face me later and die. This is your first, and last, warning._

 _Your dearest sister,_

 _Arissa Gwethalyn Daurana_


End file.
